


Don't You Forget About Me

by trillfairy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Basketcase!Zayn, Before Zayn quit, Breakfast Club AU, Homophobic Language, I wrote this a long time ago, Jock!Liam, Liam is soft, M/M, Modest is the name of the principal lmao, Nerd!Niall, OT5, Slight crude behavior, criminal!louis, minor homophobia, princess!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-12 06:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillfairy/pseuds/trillfairy
Summary: Dear Principal Modest,We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain......and an athlete......and a basket case......a princess......and a criminal...Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.





	1. 7AM

In a small town, in an irrelevant state, there sat a worn down high school by the name of McKinley High.  
    On weekdays, the school was packed with many different kids eager for education or getting the hell out once the bell rang at 3. There was graffiti on lockers, walls and bathroom stalls and nobody seemed to care about the statue in the lobby covered in gum and sharpie.  
    On weekends, silence would fall upon the once chaotic school. Janitors would get busy attempting to clean the vandalism ungrateful kids bestow upon the school property and the most common and consistent sound was the clock hands scraping against its body each second with small ticks that were only heard if you kept your mouth shut.  
    The school was mostly empty. The way Principal Modest put it was, you had a choice: sit in the library wasting your Saturday away, or follow the goddamn rules. If you didn't do the latter, you ended up doing the first. End of story.  
    This Saturday, five lucky students of McKinley High dragged up cracked paved steps in utter regret with nothing but guilt and dread in mind.  
    The first one pulled up in a soccer mom van, Niall Horan sat in the front seat clutching his book bag to his chest almost shaking in fear as his mother only looked ahead as if she didn't notice the boy nearly crawling out of his skin. His hair was blonde, a trait he had obviously not naturally inhabited due to the dark roots that were in desperate need of touching up.  
    "You're going to do homework in there, alright Niall? Nothing else." The boys mom spit harshly.  
    The kid nodded solemnly before stumbling out of the car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and making his way toward the entrance.  
    Second entered a shiny silver cadillac with a stern looking suited man in the driver's seat and a very annoyed looking boy known as Harry Styles in the passenger side. The boy's hair was brown and to his shoulders, he wore a baby pink t-shirt, tight khaki's and carried a light satchel. What you'd call a pretty boy.  
    "I don't even know why you're making me go to this." He rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle.  
    "It's just one Saturday." the boy's obvious father sighed in annoyance. "Your mom didn't want you to, but going shopping is no excuse for skipping class, Harry."  
    The statement was returned with a scowl before pretty boy replied with "You should have listened to her." and stormed out of the beautiful cadillac.  
    Right behind him, another boy was climbing out of a tattered car wearing all black, a black trench coat and carrying a large book bag. The mysterious boy had longer hair that fell toward one side of his face, his head slumped down between his shoulders. He said nothing before the guardian behind the wheel sped off  leaving a cloud of smoke.  
    Emerging from the cloud of smoke was a boy with a cigarette hanging from his lips, wearing multiple layers of flannel and denim with messy greased back hair. There was something in the way he walked that yelled, "I don't give a shit." This was Louis Tomlinson. Otherwise known as the delinquent of McKinley High School.  
    Finally arrived a red pickup, inside there was the last boy, Liam Payne, accompanied with his father whose expression could only be identified as stern.  
    "You know you're missing a meet for this." Silence hung deep in the car. "Guys mess around all the time," the older man said, "But you got caught, son."  
    The boy in the passenger wearing letterman jacket nodded quickly. "I know." The door swung open and he climbed out. "See you later."  
    In a small town, in an irrelevant state, there sat a worn down high school by the name of McKinley High. In that worn down high school, 5 kids were going to spend their Saturday in the most unexpected way.


	2. The World Is An Imperfect Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More messing around.

    At exactly 7:28, all five students gathered at the center desks in the huge dusty library. All sitting but the boy with many layers and a cigarette stench.  
    "I don't wanna be here." Harry sighed in his seat, staring at particularly nothing.  
    "That makes two of us." The jock beside him grimaced. "It'll be over soon." He tried a slight smile, but wasn't met with one in return.  
    "Thanks, Liam."  
    At 7:31, Principal Modest, a tall suited man, strode in confidently, scanning the group in slight disgust. "Take a seat, Tomlinson." he snapped at the bad boy.  
    Louis Tomlinson chuckled before plopping down into the wooden desk chair. "Lovely morning to you, Modest."  
    Principal Modest snorted and directed his attention to the rest of the students. The pretty boy sat at a desk beside the jock wearing his letterman, Tomlinson behind them. The rather nerdy kid, Niall, in the center of his right and the mysterious boy seated in the far back desk picking at the wood paint chips.  
    "It's 7:35," Principal Modest announced. "I've got you until 3." He walked down the middle aisle as the students eyes followed them. "You are to write a paper, telling me who you think you are. 1000 words." He passed by Tomlinson and knocked his feet off of the desk. "You will respect school property, Mr. Tomlinson."  
    "Aye aye, Captain." Tomlinson saluted sarcastically.  
    "1000 words." Modest announced again, before disappearing out of the library.  
    The silence that fell after didn't last long at all. Before anyone could even pick up a pencil Tomlinson hopped out of his chair and sat on his desk scooting closer to the two boys in front of him.  
“I say, we close the door and have some fun with the pretty boy over here.” He grinned looking at Harry who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, up and down.  
“Real nice, mate.” Liam retorted with a disgusted look hardly sparing the criminal a glance. “Is that anyway to talk to someone?”  
    Harry huffed an annoyed sigh and turned to Liam. “It’s fine, Liam.”  
    There was a long silence as Tomlinson began to hum an old heavy metal tune, hopping off of the desk and walking around making air guitar motion before ending up at the front of the desk of the two boys with a wicked smile.  
    "So are you guys like boyfriends?”  
    Liam only rolled his eyes while Harry looked up in disgust. “Hilarious.”  
    “What? It was an honest question.” Tomlinson pouted before smirking deviously in the direction of Harry.  
    “No.” Harry shot. “Leave me alone. You’re gonna get us in trouble.”  
    “Oh, Modest? He could give a shit about us in here.” Tomlinson hopped up and strode around the library again.  
    Liam only stared at him in disbelief. “Sit down and shut up, I’ll be damned if I have to spend another Saturday in here if you get caught. I’m already missing a meet.”  
    “Oh wouldn’t that be a bite.” The bad boy sat on his own desk with a mocking pout, shimmying his shoulders in a tantrum like fashion. “Missing a whole wrestling meet.”  
    “Well you wouldn’t know anything about it, fag!”  
    Harry flinched at the words shot by his friend. He shifted in his seat and looked away.  
    “What a derogatory term.” Tomlinson glared. “Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.”  
    Liam rolled his eyes and turned back to sit forward in his seat when he noticed Harry timidly tracing the wooden desks lines with his eraser.  
    “Harry? Oh shit, I’m so sorry, it just slipped.”  
    “It’s whatever.” Harry shrugged, forcing a smile.  
    “Guys, I really think we should be writing our papers.” a new Irish toned voice interrupted meekly.  
    The room was silent for a few moments as Tomlinson hopped down from his desk. “What about you?” His words were suddenly directed toward the irish tone with blonde hair staring down at his paper, pencil balanced between his fingers.  
    “Um, me?”  
    “No, the chair. Of course you.” Tomlinson mocked. “What’s your name?”  
    “Niall.” the boy sputtered. “Yours?”  
    Tomlinson took a breath, glancing over at the direction of the pretty boy Harry who had his eyes glued to him, watching every move. He glanced back now looking down. “Louis.” His head shot in the direction of the back. “What about you, kid?”  
    In the back sat the boy with dark layers on and hair that felt slightly in front of his left eye. He sat staring at the four with an expression that only read “God, I’m surrounded by idiots.” He didn’t respond to Louis Tomlinson, only turned his head with a smug squeak.  
    “Well,” Louis sighed pulling a grin. “How about that door? It’s getting a little bothersome feeling like someone’s about to come in here any minute.” He strode down the aisle pulling off his black gloves and shoving them in his pockets before reaching the doors hinges and fiddling with the screws.  
    “Will you cut it out? You’re gonna screw us all.” Liam groaned.  
    “Sir, have you finished your paper?” Louis yelled back with a mocking tone before the door started to swing shut and he was rushing back toward his seat.  
    “God dammit!” Modest’s voice could be heard booming from behind the door and suddenly everyone went still. He stormed into the room with a rolled newspaper in his hand, the door slamming behind him. “Why is that door closed?”  
    Nobody dared speak, afraid of Modest or Louis, no one was sure, but if they spoke that would be the last of them and they knew it.  
    “Why is that door closed?” Modest tried again, his voice louder, harsher.  
    “How should we know? We weren’t supposed to get out of our seats.” Harry offered innocently, folding his arms across his stomach.  
    Modest was not having it. He strolled down the aisle until he reached Louis desk and held out his hand. “Give me it.”  
    “Give you what, sir?” Louis pouted innocently.  
    “The damn screw, Tomlinson. Give it to me.”  
    “I don’t have it.”  
    “Don’t play stupid with me.” Modest spit.  
    “I don’t have it, sir. Screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place.” Louis shrugged with another pout.  
    “Do I have to grab you and shake it out of you?” Modest growled.  
    Louis only rolled his eyes and turned back to the front. “Eat my shorts.”  
    “What was that?”  
    “Eat. My. Shorts.”  
    “You, Tomlinson, have just got yourself another Saturday here in detention.”  
    “What can I say, I’m thrilled.” Louis sassed.  
"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what you want these kids to think. You think you're so tough Tomlinson? Try me again."  
"I'll have to check my calendar for when I'm available next." Tomlinson raised his eyebrows suggestively toward Modest, earning yet another Saturday detention before Modest stormed out of the room.  
"The next screw that falls out is gonna be you." He pointed before exiting the room with a slam of the broken library door.  
-+-+-+-  
The room was silent for a while, everyone stalling on doing their work.  
Harry sat with his head in his hand trying desperately to keep his eyes open and avoid being caught staring at the incredibly annoying though insanely gorgeous bad boy.  
Louis sat strumming an air guitar and eventually pulled out a match to strike upon the inside of his teeth before lighting his shoe on fire and beating it out with a single hand.  
Niall balanced his pencil on his nose, dropping it almost every 20 seconds. His paper, unusually, untouched by the lead besides his name in the upper right hand corner.  
Liam spent the time casting occasional glances back at the mysterious boy in all black, but otherwise fiddled with the drawstrings in his hoodie.  
The mysterious boy was drawing, god knows what, but it was sort of trippy. Although quiet, he was observing everything. Waiting for something to happen, or nothing to continue.  
After an hour, they all had ended up heads on their tables or the back of their chairs, dozed off into light sleep. An unamused Principal Modest came strolling in, glaring at everyone of the napping students before shouting “wake up!” with a kick to Louis Tomlinson’s desk.  
No one budged.  
"Alright, who needs to use the lavatory?"  
All of the students hands raised in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reach me on twitter @macdcnnis ;)  
> feedback would be lovely!


	3. Calling The Bluff of Liam Payne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kind of in the perspective of liam and the other chapters following with be the other boys :)  
> sorry it took so long, enjoy! :)

It was only 11:00am, but that was the queue for Principal Modest to stroll in the room yet again and announce lunch hour. Liam assumed this was the drill, though he’d never so much as thought about detention before he was sentenced a few days ago. "You have 1 hour for lunch. I don't want any goofing around." His voice was as stern as always as he scanned the small group.

Will drinks be provided?" Louis asked with an innocent smile.

“What?’ Modest spit.

“He does have a point, sir.” Liam agreed for once. “I’m parched.”

"And i'm very prone to dehydration." Harry chimed in softly.

Louis rolled his eyes at the pretty boy and propped himself up in his seat.

"Yes, sir. Believe me, I've seen him dehydrated and it's not pretty."

Both Niall and the mysterious boy in the back nodded in agreement.

"If you need a drink two of you can go get them from the cafeteria..."

Louis immediately hopped up, "I'll go!"

"Not so fast." Modest snapped in his direction with a scowl. "Grab some wood there bub." He turned to scan the class room, his eyes fell to Liam, "You," now to the back of the room where the mysterious boy sat pulling on the thread on his shirt. "And you.”

The boy's head shot up.

"Yes you, Mr. Malik, go with Payne."

Betrayal and anger crossed the expression of the mysterious boy as he glared at Principal Modest, before he stood up, pushing the desk away, adjusted his jacket and walked over to Liam.

“Be back in 10 minutes.” Principal Modest instructed before turning to the door. “I’ll be in my office.”

“See?” Louis laughed. “Doesn’t give a shit.” 

Liam and the boy Principal Modest called ‘Mr. Malik’ headed to the door. 

“Hey big boy,” Louis called and Liam snapped his head back with a glare. “Get me a coke?” he added with a wink and blew a kiss before the jock stormed out of the door, Malik following with a snicker.

 

“So, what’s your name?” Liam broke the silence between the two boys taking their sweet time down to the cafeteria. 

“Did you not hear Modest?” ‘Malik’ refused to make eye contact, hands stuffed in his sweater pockets.

“I mean your first name.” Liam tried again.

The boy glanced at the jock quickly, meeting his soft gaze for a moment before turning back away. “Zayn.” 

“Zayn.” Liam tasted the name with a smile. “What’s your poison?” they reached a series of vending machines and he reached into his pocket for a couple of coins.

“Vodka.”

“Vodka?”

“Tons.” Zayn lingered on the ‘o.’

“You drink a lot?”

“Do you?” Zayn faced Liam, finally, with a smug.

“I asked first.”

Zayn’s brows furrowed together. “Well I have another question for you,” he hissed, dark eyes attempting to pierce through Liam’s smug and touch facade. “Why did you call Louis a ‘fag’?”

Liam was taken aback, the machine beeping to remind him of the quarter he had already dropped in. “I- It was the first word to come to mind.”

“Uh-huh.” Zayn nodded with narrowing eyes. “Or maybe… it’s because you, a wrestler so blinded by your hypermasculinity, think it’s okay to use words that actually in someway hit home? Push a personal little button inside you?”

Liam fell silent. “I-”

Zayn turned back around finding interest in the wall graffiti by the water fountain while Liam finished gathering the drinks.

“So, why are you in here?” Liam tried to push past the previous question.

“Why are you?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?”

“Do you?” Zayn bit back a smile.

Liam’s tongue grazed over his lips as he caught sight of the dark boy’s pearly whites for the first time. For someone who hardly made a presence in McKinley, he was sure demanding his attention now. There was something intriguing about the mysterious persona of Zayn Malik. 

Zayn seemed to notice and smirked before continuing to walk ahead. “Gonna answer my question?”

“Well, you know,” Liam fumbled to catch up with the boy ahead. “My coach thought it’d be good for me. Said I need to learn some discipline to be a better player and all.”

Zayn stopped dead in his tracks and faced the jock. “Wow, that’s very interesting… Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Liam had no answer. The outcast called Zayn had caught him in his tough jock facade and now that his eyes were piercing straight through his, he felt like melting into a pathetic puddle on the floor. He wasn’t sure if his cheeks were burning from some imaginary lasers that Zayn was casting or it was just him, so he swiftly turned on his heel and marched past Zayn, hoping he didn’t question him any further. 

When the two boys returned, Louis had just finished bothering Harry about his lunch of sushi before fucking off once Liam glared at him to “get out of his seat.”

Liam eyes followed Zayn as he returned to the back row, falling back into the default silence everyone was used to, shrinking away in his big black cardigan as he pulled out his strange looking lunch. Liam didn’t even want to know what it was.

Once Liam started pulling out his lunch, Louis Tomlinson had found his way right beside him, making eyes at the amount of food Liam pulled from his paper brown sack. He was a wrestler, he had to cultivate mass, alright? They exchanged looks of disgust before Liam opted to refrain from making a snide comment, allowing Louis to peacefully turn to Niall.

“Well what do we have here?” Louis hummed condescendingly. “PB&J with the crusts cut off. Wow, Niall, I must say, this looks like a very nutritious lunch. Is your dad Mr. Rogers?”

“Can you leave him alone?” Liam groaned as Niall’s eyes sent a signal of panic to anyone who looked over.

“You probably got a nice family. Supportive, caring and all that. This is what I imagine goes on in the household of Niall…” Louis stood up and before Liam could interject any further he made his way to the back of the classroom and began a mocking performance. 

“ ‘Son?’

‘Yeah, dad!’

‘How was your day?’

‘Great dad! How was yours?’

‘Super!’” Louis interchanged between voices of a TV sitcom dad and a high-pitched boys voice that was meant to be Niall and the poor boy visibly shrunk in his seat, eyes staring down at his hands that fidgeted beneath the table. 

Soon, Louis finished the skit with a scene that appeared to be Niall’s father punching his mother in the face and Liam couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

“That’s real fucking nice, mate. You don’t know shit about anyone. I don’t believe your bad-boy persona. Acting as if the world and everyone hate you. You’re a fucking delinquent. Your homelife probably isn’t that bad.” 

“What?” There was fire in Louis eyes now as his neck snapped toward Liam.

“Did I stutter?”

A few wide strides across the room and Louis slammed an exposed arm onto the table in front of Liam, knocking over one of his drinks with the ‘bang.’ “See this? Looks like the size of a cigar, right?”

Liam’s eyes went wide eyed the darker patch of skin that had scarred over, other faded ones that matched in size trailing up the delinquents arm.

“Did I  _ stutter _ ?” Louis spit between his teeth. “You know, I don’t have to sit with you fucking pansies any longer.” Everything after that was a series of crashing chairs, angry grunts and yells as Louis heaved himself up the library staircase nearby and buried his head in his arms.


End file.
